THE POETRY OF FLOWERS 
Alas! “ all that’s bright must fade !” How true a picture of 
human life, and of the growth and decay of human beauty, is 
exhibited in the following lines by Jeremy Taylor: “But so I 
have seen a rose newly springing from the clefts of its hood: 
and at first it was fair as the morning, and full with the dew 
of heaven, as a lamb’s fleece; but when a rude breath had 
forced open its modesty, and dismantled its youthful retirement, 
it began to put on darkness, and decline to softness, and the 
symptoms of a sickly age came on; it bowed its head and broke 
its stalk: and at night having lost some of it leaves, and all 
its beauty, it fell with the portion of weeds and outworn faces.” 
I pray thee do not blossom yet, 
My fairy rose — my pretty pet! 
Let not the wooing light and air 
Beguile those tender leaves apart, 
But keep thy wealth of incense there, 
With Patience at thy blooming heart 
f. s. o. 
THE DYING ROSEBUD’S LAMENT. 
Ah me ! ah ! wo is me ! 
That I should perish now, 
With the dear sdnlight just let in, 
Upon my balmy brow! 
My leaves, instinct with glowing life, 
Were quivering to unclose, 
My happy heart with love was rife; — 
I was almost a rose! 
F. S. O. 
